


The BOFH vs. Lex Luthor

by derryderrydown



Category: Bastard Operator from Hell, Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The BOFH vs. Lex Luthor

I've got a nice game of Age of Empires going on when the PFY sidles into the room. (He's been on his best behaviour lately, following an unfortunate accident with a malfunctioning surge protector and an anti-static wristband.) He looks worried so I generously pause my game to ask him what the problem is.

"The company's been bought out," he says, so pale that his spots are even more obvious than normal.

"And this concerns us why?" I ask. "We're contractors. More importantly, we're contractors who have invested a lot of time and effort in ensuring we're indispensible."

He looks confused. "We never invest time and effort in anything. Except making the Boss's life a misery."

"That's not so much time and effort as a pleasant hobby. Nonetheless, I think we're reasonably safe."

"Well, yes, except..."

"Except what?"

"The company's been bought by LuthorCorp. Lex Luthor has just kicked the CEO out of his office."

"Literally?" I ask, brightening.

"Kind of. It was his secretary who did the kicking. Some hulking great black-haired farmboy. In denim and flannel."

I'm forced to admit that it's an interesting choice of secretary. In search of blackmail material and considering what most CEOs get up to with their secretaries, I flick to the CCTV in the CEO's office. (Installed because the CEO has a lot of valuable equipment in his office which needs to be protected. Of course, I may have forgotten to mention this to the CEO before the incident with the goat which resulted in a nice little pay rise. 400% or so - just enough to keep up with inflation.)

To my irritation, the camera is now pointing to a scribbled sign saying: "I don't think so."

Hmm.

I flick to the secondary, back-up camera. This is trained on a sign saying: "Still, no."

The third camera is showing: "Not a chance" and the fourth: "You might as well give up now."

The PFY accidentally installed the fifth, sixth and seventh cameras in the women's showers so, although the view is pleasant, it's not particularly enlightening. Well, other than to a hormonal adolescent, which could be why the PFY studies it with such fierce concentration.

Visuals of the CEO's office would be better but I can cope with just sound. For now.

All the bugs are broadcasting white noise. Apart from the one playing Barry Manilow's greatest hits.

I'm starting to gain a modicum of respect for our new Fuhrer. In an attempt to combat this uncharacteristic behaviour, I take a look at his network share.

Bingo! A password-protected directory of approximately 500MB, labelled 'Unimportant'. It might as well have a flashing neon sign saying "Private stuff here!"

Somehow it seems unsporting to wade in using superior access rights. He's gone to all the trouble of putting a password on it - it's only polite to guess it.

A quick glance at his personnel file shows a mother who died when he was a kid. And, yes, 'Lillian' gets me straight in.

The directory contains a single Word document of garbage. I try ROT13-ing it but Luthor appears to have regained his intelligence at this point.

This encryption could actually be a challenge.

Three days later, I'm done. The document contains a treatise on why it's immoral to waste company time on trying to read the CEO's private files.

I'm getting annoyed now and my mood is not helped by the phone ringing. I thought I'd trained people not to phone me. However, the caller ID shows it's the CEO's secretary so, oozing professional sincerity and a desire to please, I pick up.

"IT Support?" says the secretary.

I bite my tongue and manage to agree.

"Great. Mr Luthor is-" He breaks off and I hear him swallow. When he resumes, his voice is an octave or so higher and liberally interspersed with gasps and moans. "Mr Luthor is having some trouble with his keyboard. Could you send somebody up to take a look at it?"

"I'll be up straight away," I chirp.

"Er, make that in fifteen minutes," the secretary manages.

"Thirty," says another voice and then the phone goes dead.

I'm up in ten and am kept waiting by a goon with a wire in his ear and a jacket tailored to hide the telltale bulge under his arm. I suddenly feel like I'm in a bad detective novel.

After another thirty minutes, I'm let into the CEO's office. The secretary is dishevelled and his shirt is misbuttoned. Lex Luthor looks like the cat who got the cream. Disturbingly, he chooses that moment to lick some white liquid from the corner of his mouth.

"You're having trouble with your keyboard?"

He gestures towards the iBook on the desk.

The desk which appears to have had all paperwork carelessly shoved to one side. I glance at the secretary, who blushes.

"The Caps Lock key is stuck," Luthor says.

"Ah," I say, "that's quite a common problem with iBooks. The CPU angle needs to be adjusted to com-"

"-pensate for the increased altitude," Luthor interrupts. He smiles slightly and the secretary looks smug. "Yes, I'd heard that might be a problem. However, I think it's more likely to be a hardware fault with the keyboard."

I manage a smile. Just. "Was the iBook issued by LuthorCorp?"

Luthor looks suspicious. "Yes."

"That's going to be tricky. The LuthorCorp support procedures haven't been fully integrated with ours, which means I can't issue you a new keyboard from our stocks."

The secretary clears his throat. "Your assistant oversaw the integration of the databases yesterday. While you were, er, occupied."

I'm going to have to re-introduce the PFY to Mr Halon.

"It's an American keyboard," I say. "We only have British."

"I can cope."

"But then we'd need to alter the keyboard settings on the iBook and, as we don't support Mac OS, that wouldn't be-"

"I run Linux."

Ten minutes later, I retire, having agreed to bring the new keyboard straight up to Luthor's office and install it in front of him. Apparently he doesn't like letting his laptop out of his sight.

On my way downstairs, I phone the pimp. It's definitely time to acquire a new job.


End file.
